you've got a lot of nerve (pt 1)

“You've got a lot of nerve . . .”

The radio screams contempt as I watch two girls with delayed smiles and lustful full eyes pass-by in the wake of a young thug. I continue watching the threesome as they move in the direction of the afternoon sun. Sometimes I think I've been living vicariously through a weaker specimen. Other days, I'm a afraid to leave my apartment because of the parasites. I've been waiting for Pete for what seems like hours, but it's barely thirty minutes later than our predetermined meeting time.

There's a lunatic at the window of the car I'm sitting in. It's Pete's car. I'd borrowed it last night and we planned to meet at a gas station, my present location, when I was through using it. The guy at the window asks me for a cigarette. I hand him three. He asks, “You need any blow?” My nose fills with the scent of third rate narc. “May god have mercy on your soul for what you're doing to people,” I reply. He stares directly into my eyes, cocks the left side of his mouth into a smile, then tells me to have a nice day.


“Sorry to keep you waiting, but my girl was giving me troubles and as you know, I never leave angry. Sometimes making up takes time.” Pete informs me as he gets into the car. I shrug, having little to say on the matter.

“You want a drink? Pete asks rhetorically.

The two of us pull out of the gas station and head west on Overflow Blvd towards the Nite Owl Bar.


“Hey man, you ever met my friend Rex?” Pete asks me somewhere between our second and third beer. I hadn't, and wasn't sure I wanted to. Some of Pete's friends were people I didn't want to deal with.

“If you don't mind, of course, I'd like to send him your way. He's a real interesting guy. The people he's around are kinda screwed up. I think knowing somebody like you would do him some good.”
I found this almost offensive. “What's that supposed to mean, somebody like me?” I ask Pete.

“You're good people. A little cynical sure, but pretty interesting to be around.”

“Yeah man, sure, whatever,” was all I could muster. I guess I hadn't had enough beer to be indignant.